Page 47 of Vow of Vengeance
I know what he means when he says one way or another. He means we'll find her, whether she's alive or dead. Whether she's dead, or worse.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
The thought of anybody suffering the way I know they have is horrific and ugly and disgusting. But the thought of my best friend suffering that? It's incomprehensible. My brain won't let me go there.
"Dec-" My throat feels tight. I can't-
"Breathe, little bird."
I don't think I can survive it if we find her dead. I don't think I can survive it if we find her worse...
"You're going to keep it together for me, okay, baby?" Declan asks, nodding as if it will convince me that I'm capable of that. Maybe it does, because I nod. "When we find her, she's going to need you. You realize that? She's been there for you foreverything, right? So, you need to be there for her this time. You can do that, hmm?"
I'm still nodding, grateful for his presence because I think it's the only thing keeping me upright.
"Don't give up hope." Khan says, making me turn to him in surprise. I'd forgotten he was even with us. He braces a hand on my shoulder. "We'll find her."
Declan's eyes narrow on Khan's hand, and he doesn't say a word before Khan realizes his irritation and slowly removes his touch. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck.
"I'm gonna get home. I've got to get some sleep. Just... hang in there."
Declan
I hate leaving her even long enough to work, and I refuse to let her leave the house by herself. It's why I came back here with her so that she could collect a few of her possessions from the home she lived in with her husband. No way in hell was I letting her go alone, but I don't like being here. Her husband is everywhere in this place.
Tony has still been silent, which is unnerving. He's plotting, but I don't know what for.
"I'm just going to grab a few things." She assures me. "I'll be quick."
Soren's definition of quick is not the same as mine, apparently. Because it's been five minutes and I've already called up the steps to be sure she's alright.
I don't know what possesses me to do it, but I find my way out to the garage, surveying the wreckage of her former life. The box that had the baby stuff in it is still exactly where I left it the night she found me rifling through it, the bunny on top looking blankly up at me. I lift it by the neck and appraise the thing, imaginingwhat would have happened if she hadn't lost the baby with her husband.
I have no qualms about raising a child that isn't my own DNA. It's why I know we'll have a family one way or another. There are options, if biology fails us. I'd adopt a child in a heartbeat if it meant making her happy. And I think because it would make me happy too. I don't have much experience with children, but I enjoy the idea of them. After all, they're already far better than adults just based on the fact that behavior is learned.
I let the rabbit back into the box and turn to survey the rest of the garage. I wonder whether Soren would be angry if I had someone come to sort through all of this stuff. She clearly has no need for all of it, or it wouldn't be in the garage in boxes coated with dust. Not all of them are, though. I notice another one that's open, and move to peer inside, curious.
It's just clothing, by the looks of it. I reach in and pull out the article on top... a hockey fan jersey. It's far too big to be Soren's and I can't imagine she cared about hockey ever. Beneath it are dress shirts, polos. I lift another just to be sure, and it's clearly what I think it is. She's still holding onto all her husband's clothing.
Perhaps a bonfire is in order. I bet my little bird would love to watch the remnants of her vicious husband's life go up in flames.
I intend to get rid of everything here sooner or later, including the house. But if she's that attached to the shell, I'll happily gut the entire place, removing everything her husband touched. She can use it as her office, once we no longer have to worry about Tony, once we've found Marissa.
I've spent every hour I could re-writing the code to get Marissa back into the system, but I can't recover what's been deleted. Birth certificates, driver's license, voter's registration. That's all gone unless there are physical copies stuffed in filing cabinets somewhere. I also can't bridge the gap between the last capturesof her and the point where we realized she was missing. But with the assistance of Soren, I was able to upload her likeness. Whenever a hit does occur, we will at least know. We just have to wait.
In the meanwhile, I'm content to eliminate as much of Vin's existence from this home as possible. Something has been bothering me, though. The locked-up attic. After witnessing what was beneath the bar, I can't imagine what sort of horrors are in there, but I need to know.
I pull the string for the cased ladder and step aside as it unfolds, giving me access to the attic with it’s locked door. One wall of the garage is covered with a peg board and tools, and I go for the hammer until I realize the bolt cutters at the end. Those will do nicely.
I suppose I could have asked her if she knew what was up here, or if she had the key. But something tells me that's laughable. Of course she doesn't know. If I had to bet, the lock on the door was put there to keep her out. Who else would it have been for?
The bolt cracks easily under the pressure of the cutters. It's ironic, really, that he left those bolt cutters in plain sight. She could have done that at any point, cracked into his little secret and seen what he was keeping from her. But of course, he never had to worry about that. He conditioned her, groomed her, had her so turned around that the thought of snooping never even occurred to her. She didn't question any of their life together, and now she's beating herself up for it. She still doesn't realize that it's because she was abused in one way or another, gaslit and manipulated into silence and complacency.
The attic room is wide but short. I have to stoop to avoid hitting my head on the rafters.
I don't know what I expected. A bed, maybe handcuffs and chains. Maybe a body, skeletonized.
